Who Knows: A Phantom of the Opera Story
by The Kateness
Summary: A fatherless twelve year old Phangirl living in beautiful Southern California gets the chance of a lifetime.


Woo-hoo! It's The Kateness's first Phanfiction! I'm determined to have a story that centers around Erik and another girl without it turning into something 'M' rated, so that'll be my goal. Erik's uber-sexyness might make this a bit difficult, but I'm going to do my best. Yes, the title was based on Who Knows by Avril Lavigne, so all you Avril fans out there might be in the wrong building. –points to the let's-all-bow-to-Avril section of Fanfiction- But hey, maybe you want to stick around and read my crap anyway. D So here goes.

He had had it. He was through with the life that had done nothing but cursed him; that had opened a door and slammed it shut in his face. Minutes ago, the man had been down in his domain with his Christine and that accursed boy, three voices united as one, in what had come to be the heartbreaking climax to his story. How his heart cried out for his beloved Christine, and how his hatred burned against that horrible boy, for which his Angel had altogether stood him up!

But that was all about to end soon.

Now, Erik, the infamous Phantom of the Opera; the one that had cheated fate, had been the sudden death of many, had made his dwelling in the depths of the Paris Opera House, and had let his muse, love, _passion_ even, slip right through his fingers, was now standing on the edge of the rooftop; staring down into the cloudy blackness that would soon swallow him up and no one would ever have the chance to rip him to emotional shreds again. No more notes, no more hangings, no more suspicious noises.

No more Phantom of the Opera.

The man had left his domain just in time without being detected by the traps that had more than likely either burned everything to ashes or destroyed the place. Unfortunately, he was without a final will or funeral preparations, but who gave a damn about those things at this point? This is _suicide_ we're dealing with, and what kind of idiot worried about those things. The only thing he had left behind was his mask; the one thing that had kept him from the world after the disastrous outcome of his life's work.

Taking a cautious step up onto the elevated safety wall, his gaze not averting from the darkness below, Erik gave a sigh with a mix of sadness and determination as he had just begun to lean slowly forward and give it all up.

But things never go smoothly during a suicide attempt in the first chapter of a story.

A sudden shriek of terror from behind him caused Erik to suddenly fall back onto the hard, wooden floor of the balcony and curse silently under his breath, rubbing the back of his now throbbing head. Whirling around into a standing position, his golden optics took in an almost unbelievable sight. It turns out that a teenage boy standing about six feet tall had pulled him from his business, but his trained gaze could tell that he was no normal teenage boy.

An untrained eye would see a normal young man out for a stroll on the roof that had stopped some crazy man about to commit suicide, but there is obviously more to the story. Like most teenagers, he had a messy crop of brown hair that fell down to his ear lopes, curling slightly inward, with a few spare strands cluttered over his blue eyes that were now struck with urgency. The boy was also wearing an open white shirt (much like the man, himself) and black dress pants, which was a strange and improper combination back then. What Erik immediately noticed was that the boy's feet were bare, and his face was without mark or blemish.

And the fact that he had a suspicious, soft, white glow around him.

"Don't jump! Do you realize what you're doing?" A tone of urgency and maybe even a bit of the tone one might assume when you are trying to tell someone something completely simple but they don't get it was mixed in with his almost melodic voice that played like a song on your ears.

Erik stood; dumbstruck and unable to utter a sound.

"If you throw yourself off this building, you'll not only destroy what you have right now, but even what you have hundreds of years into the future! Trust me! In a few short years, a chubby detective will come and write your whole life story, which will be made into a play and even produced into a motion picture that will capture millions of fans!" The mysterious lad's eyes were lit up like headlights as he broke the exciting news to Erik, who was still debating over what a motion picture was, as he continued. "Your story doesn't end that way! If you're crying over Christine right now, you should probably count your blessings, because if you give it a couple hundred years, you'll be the one of the most sought after male characters by screaming she-Phans worldwide!"

The boy paused and gave a still rather baffled Erik a chance to speak.

"What _are _you talking about?" He took a few threatening steps toward the lad, who still didn't show any signs of fear. "I have nothing to live for, and how _dare _you speak _her _name! You have no right to invade me at this time! Now leave me be!" Thinking that he had gotten his point across, he turned briskly around and began walking back toward the ledge, when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder that made him burn with hatred as his hand shot with cat-like reflexes to where the hand rested, but came only into contact with his shoulder.

The eerie feeling of his own hand on his own shoulder was enough to send chills down his spine and he slowly turned, staring once again into the boy's face, which now had a rather I-told-you-so smirk painted across it.

"Erik, I think it's time you had a reality check."

END CHAPTER ONE

Heh heh, sorry I had to cut it off a bit early, but my ride's going to be here any minute and I want to get the chapter up before I go. Please R&R, and constructive critique is totally accepted, but constructive praise (For loss of a better adjective) is definitely accepted as well. And don't worry, I'm not the sensitive type when it comes to my reviews. I'm thoroughly grateful that you read my work at all. And by the way, this is by no means a M/M fiction, so don't even get at that. Gross. But anyway, thanks for reading and please review!


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